


The Gift of the Moth

by Graintaire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graintaire/pseuds/Graintaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eponine has never given a Christmas gift before, but for one person in her life, a gift is worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift of the Moth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonlitserenades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitserenades/gifts).



> Dedicated to Jess, moonlitserenades on tumblr for the Miserables Holidays gift exchange. Merry Christmas!

Eponine stared down at the moth in the antique store’s window. It was the biggest insect she had ever seen in her life, living it would have overshadowed both her small hands. The top wingtips started out a sunny yellow before blending into and orange brown and finally into a burnt orange. On each section of the wings was a white triangle. The label at the bottom of the simple wooden frame said “Atlas Moth, mounted June, 6, 1932.” The slope of the wings reminded her of a pair of arms opening up for an embrace. 

She mentally scolded herself, there was no reason to be so romantic about a dead bug. She clearly had been spending too much time around Grantaire, Feuilly, and Jehan Prouvraire, the various shades of colors were starting to become more distinct in her eyes and while lines were turning into more than lines. Where once it would have been just yellow, orange, and brown was now the wide shades and nuances of every color. If she wasn’t careful she’d turn into as hopeless a romantic as they were. Nevermind if Grantaire declared his mad cynicism at every chance; everyone knew where his heart lay. 

So why had she stopped to look at this moth every time she went by the antique store. It had gone up in the window three weeks ago, it had replaced a bust of a badly painted Napoleon with bug eyes. Ever since then, she had paused or even outright stopped to look at it. She had no use for something so trivial, but she knew someone who did and for him, it wouldn’t be trivial at all. With the icy rain starting to pick up she had to make a decision, either go inside and ask about it or keep moving. Without even fully understanding what she was doing, she turned to the door of the store and pulled it open. 

The chime on the door was electric, playing a tinny version of “Jingle Bells.” It felt out of place in a store dedicated to the past. That and the fact that Christmas was still a month away. The smell of warm dust, old ink, and burned tea filled her nose as she took a moment to wipe her feet off on a welcome mat that complimented her on her underwear. There wasn’t anyone around that she could see, but a security camera was pointed right at the door and another was pointed at the front window display. So much for a five finger discount. She went over to the window display to find a price on the moth. She picked up the case, it was glass on both sides, no part of the moth hidden. 

As she reached down to pick it up a woman’s voice stopped her. 

“May I help you?” 

Eponine stopped and turned to face the woman. She was middle aged with thick boxy glasses, her hair was pulled into a side braid with strands of gray sticking out. In her hands she carried a stack of old books and some various papers. She wore an absolutely hideous ugly sweater over a pair of dark skinny jeans. The sweater looked like a Christmas tree with real blinking lights, tiny plastic Christmas bulbs, and pseudo-popcorn garland that looked like it encircled her entire body. It was absolutely absurd, but something about the woman’s absurdity struck Eponine and she found herself smiling, the woman’s voice wasn’t unkind. 

“Um, yes, I was, um, I was looking at the bug, the moth and um, I was wondering about the price.” 

Wow, buying a present certainly had never been this awkward before. Then again, Eponine wasn’t sure when the last time she had bought a Christmas present was. 

“The Atlas Moth?” The woman set down the books and papers she had been carrying on a rose patterned vanity with a cracked mirror. She wiped invisible dust off her hands onto her jeans as she walked over to Eponine to look at the moth. 

“Yes, this came in a while ago from an estate sale. The previous owner had passed away and this was one of the things I found there. Quite a nice piece. You have a good eye.” 

She picked it up and looked at the sticker that had been hidden on the bottom of the wooden frame. 

“Let’s see, 30 euros.” She turned and looked at Eponine with a smile, but all Eponine felt was her heart sink into her combat boots. 30 euros was more money than she ever saw at once. Eponine bit her lip. 

The woman tilted her head to the side. “How about this chere, I have a layaway policy. Basically you could pay for the Moth in installments over a few weeks and no one else would be able to buy it.” 

Eponine felt her spirits perk up, “I can give you six Euros every week until Christmas, would that work out?” The woman smiled, “That sounds perfect chere. I’ll take your information over here and we can get you all set.” 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was Christmas Eve. Eponine had made her last payment to Floreal, the antique store owner, about ten minutes earlier. She was practically dancing as she made it through the gently falling snow clutching the brown wrapped parcel in her arms closely. Now that she had it, the thought of losing it, slipping on black ice, bumping into someone, and having to listen to it crack underneath the brown wrapping paper was too much. So while she went quickly, she went carefully towards her destination in the students quarter. 

When she finally arrived at the apartment building she realized there was a bit of a flaw in her plan. While her family could care less about where she was and what she was doing on Christmas Eve, his family certainly wouldn’t be the same. He might not be there, he was probably with them, who ever they were. Parents and siblings and warmth, things she was far from knowing.

A lead weight of doubt dropped into her stomach as she stood on the front stoop looking at the call button with his and Enjolras’ name next to it. This was dumb. Sure they saw each other at the Musain, they’d shared a few drinks, and yes he lent her more books than she would ever have time to read (or so she claimed, so far she had read them all and they had had many late night conversations debating them). 

Eponine put her hand down. But the hard feeling of the mounted moth pressed into her chest prodded at her. Shit, she was turning into a romantic. 

“Fuck it,” she whispered to herself as she pressed the call button next to Combeferre’s name. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Combeferre looked up from his volume of Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling. He wasn’t expecting any packages, he had received one from his family several days ago. They had insisted on sending him something when he had told them that he wouldn’t be able to come home this year.

The cost was too much and frankly he needed some time to himself. Finals had been especially draining this semester and with the Amis plans moving full throttle 24/7, was it really too much to ask for a little time for himself? Enjolras was out for the evening. Did he forget his keys again? 

Combeferre set the book upside down on the sofa and crossed to the intercom. Pressing the button he asked, “I don’t see your keys up here, did you leave them in your room?” 

“Um, no?” The voice that answered was definitely not Enjolras. 

“Eponine? What’s up? Is everything alright?” Eponine had been by a few times, but that was only when everyone else had been there too, she’d never been over by herself. 

“I was wondering if I could up, I…” her voice trailed off, “I have something for you.” 

“Sure,” Combeferre replied. He pressed the button that buzzed her in and waited. 

Their apartment was on the fourth floor so it was going to take her a moment to get up all the stairs. Looking around Combeferre realized it was a mess. There were books everywhere along with other odds and ends. He suddenly felt ridiculously self conscious and started to pick up everything in a jumble. Where was he going to put all this stuff? The coffee table was littered with more books and papers, there was even an old pizza box that he quickly picked up and attempted to shove into the trash can to little avail. 

All too soon there was a knocking at the door. 

“Combeferre?”

“Just a second!”

He gave up trying and returned the detritus of his and Enjolras’ life to the coffee table. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and tried to smooth out his tshirt. Another futile effort since tshirts refuse to be smoothed. He had not dressed for company in any respect. He hoped Eponine would understand. 

He unlocked the door. Eponine stood there, a light dusting of snow was turning into water crystals on her wildly curly brown hair. They caught the light as she turned her head and shimmered.

“Hi,” she said. 

“Hey, um, sorry I’m forgetting my manners, come on in,” he stood aside and let her in. 

Why should he feel embarrassed about the state of the place now? They hadn’t had time to clean, so what? And yet he couldn’t shake the twinge of embarrassment of her seeing the way the place looked. He closed the door and mentally scolded himself to stop over analyzing every little thing. 

“So what can I do for you?” he asked. 

Eponine held out a brown square package towards him. 

“Merry Christmas.” Her eyes were cast down as she held it towards him.

“For me?” Eponine nodded and waved the package a bit.

“C’mon take it. I didn’t get it for you to just wave it around in your face.” 

Combeferre couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Alright, thank you,” he said as he took the package and sat down on the couch. 

“Have a seat; can I open it now?” Eponine nodded as she sat beside him, her knees turned towards him, a hair's breadth away from touching.  
“It be nice if you did.” 

Combeferre untied the string on the package and unfolded the brown wrapping paper. When he pulled out the mounted Atlas Moth, Eponine bit back a smile at the gasp of surprise as his eyes lit up.

“Eponine… Eponine it’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say.” 

He turned to her on the couch. 

“Thank you so much. But, I don’t have anything to give you,” he said as he placed the mount on the one bare spot of the coffee table. 

“Actually you do,” Eponine replied. Combeferre frowned in question, his eyebrows wrinkling over his glasses in that little way that made Eponine’s stomach start to flutter. 

He picked up a mug and raised it to his lips, “What can I give you?” 

“Let me share your bed.” 

Combeferre’s head turned away so fast so that his spit take wouldn’t get Eponine or her gift. In the same amount of time, Eponine realized how poorly worded she had phrased her request and started babbling to explain what she really meant as Combeferre started to cough violently. She pounded on his back, so flustered. When had she started taking lessons in awkward phrasing from Marius? This was as bad as his “I have come to sleep with you” to Courfeyrac. And if Courf ever found out about this, she’d never live it down

Combeferre waved his arm at her, “I’m alright,” he gasped out. “OK, can you repeat that?” 

Eponine’s ears were cherry red as he looked at her.

“I didn’t mean what you thought I meant, but that was really badly phrased, what I meant. Ugh, what I meant was can I spend the night here? Just to sleep. My place isn’t exactly the safest in the world. Honestly it changes pretty often and most of the time I sleep with one eye open. And I just thought, when I’m with you.” 

Eponine took a deep breath. 

“Most people I know only see me for what I can do for them. They want something all the time for one reason or another. They see a tool. But when I’m with you, when we talk about books the books you recommend or when we spend time together, you see me. You see me.” 

Eponine shrugged.  
“Everyone makes such a big deal out of Christmas and for me, I thought it be nice to sleep somewhere that I could actually really sleep. And that place was with you.” 

The entire time Combeferre listened to Eponine without interrupting. 

Eponine got up, “Merry Christmas, I’m sorry I bothered you.” 

As she turned to leave, Combeferre took her hand, “I would be happy to have you here for Christmas.” Eponine looked down at Combeferre who stood up. 

“I’ve got some odds and ends in the kitchen, if you don’t mind a non traditional Christmas dinner we can whip something up and watch It’s a Wonderful Life. How does that sound?” 

Eponine smiled, the joy that she wanted to hide lit up her eyes. “That sounds perfect.”


End file.
